


January 14

by mikhailosbitch



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich Week, Gallavich Week 2017, M/M, Wedding, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 08:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11688264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikhailosbitch/pseuds/mikhailosbitch
Summary: They do it on a Friday. Two weeks after Ian’s slightly weird proposal.  It’s the middle of January but since they have absolutely no money for a honeymoon or some stupid shit like that it doesn’t really matter when they do it.





	January 14

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So this is my fic for Day 4, Wedding/Honeymoon.   
> I don’t know how it happened but the end turned out quite… I don’t know… pensive? Or melancholic? A little bit? I don’t know, you guys are the judges.  
> It's fluffy I guess but I tried it to make it Ian and Mickey style fluff.

Fuck human needs. He has been trying to ignore the issue for at least half an hour now but unfortunately the problem won’t go away unless he does something about it. The last thing Ian wants to do though is get up and take the goddamn leak his full bladder is begging for because it’s cold as fuck outside and in the apartment and Ian is in his absolute favorite spot in the world right now.

He’s laying in bed, covered in a blanket all nice and comfortable but what really does it is Mickey who is tucked into his side, arms around Ian’s torso and face buried in his neck, tickling Ian’s skin with his soft breath.

Ian really does _not_ want to fucking move right now, not only because he knows the world outside this bed is freezing since the heater in their tiny apartment _sucks_ but also because he will have to untangle himself from Mickey’s limbs to get up which Ian doesn’t see the appeal in at all and on top of that he would totally wake Mickey up.

So Ian stays were he is, pressed against Mickey’s body, solid and grounding, next to him but eventually he has to face the fact that he has two options here. Stay in bed and piss himself, and Mickey, or get out into the icy shallows of their apartment for a couple minutes and then right back under the sheets to the most important person in his life.

 

“Fuck” he breathes out, shuts his eyes for a second and silently counts until three before he moves. As carefully as humanly possible he grabs Mickey’s hand and guides his arm that is slung around his waist away from his body. Mickey is a light-sleeper, thanks to a childhood in hell, several stints in juvie, and prison, and Ian’s wary efforts to separate them without waking him up cause him to stir a little in his sleep. But, if that’s even possible, the fucker only snuggles yet closer and Ian wants nothing more than to stay in this bed forever.

 

Though his bladder reminds him that this is not an option so he sighs because there is no way he will be able to free himself from little octopus Mickey without waking him up. He counts to five this time until he brings up the mental strength to leave fucking paradise and rip his boyfriend out of sleep in the process. Still trying his best to be gentle, even though there is no point, he scoots away from Mickey’s sleeping form only that now it’s no longer a sleeping but a waking up form.

 

“Morning” Ian says and can’t help the smile creeping up his face. Mickey’s eyes are all sleepy and a little puffy, hair a soft dark mess on his head and the famous scowl on his face because why _the fuck_ is Ian moving. No longer able to contain himself he leans in and kisses Mickey. Who gives a fuck about morning breath, it’s totally worth it. It always is.

“Sorry” Ian mutters as he pulls back, blue eyes staring a up at him, the unique Mickey mix of scolding and fondness in them. “But I really gotta piss.”

“Bring breakfast.” Ian bops his elbow in Mickey’s side but Mickey only smiles at him and Ian has to kiss him again. And then he has to run because otherwise he would wet the bed.

 

Since Ian is an awesome boyfriend and also very hungry he doesn’t immediately crawl back into bed after he has taken care of his very urgent problem but goes into the kitchen instead. It’s way too cold but well, as already said, fucking human needs can’t be ignored forever, plus he has a hungry Mickey in the bedroom and hungry Mickey can very quickly become grumpy Mickey. Though grumpy Mickey is mostly also very cute Mickey.

Fifteen minutes later he has created a little disaster in the kitchen and a big stack of perfectly round banana pancakes as well as two steaming mugs of freshly brewed shitty filter coffee.

The last pancake is still sizzling in the pan and Ian is nervous. The pancake is not round. And that’s intentional.

 

He has been thinking about it for a while, well honestly, for a pretty long while, an eternity really, and after racking his own, Lip’s, Fiona’s, Kev’s, Debbie’s, and Mandy’s brains, he has finally come to the conclusion that he shouldn’t make a big deal out of it. Mickey doesn’t like grand gestures. Hates being the center of attention, except it’s Ian or Yev’s attention and even for them it’s hard to compliment Mickey sometimes. Or better, make him accept their compliments.

So Ian has decided not to drag Mickey out on a date at a too expensive restaurant, out in the open, and then going to Navy Pier and shit. That wouldn’t be them, anyway.

 

Mickey’s, and also Ian’s favorite place is their apartment that’s still just in the South Side with a room for Yev and only sometimes hot water. It’s calm. No crazy siblings or good-for-nothing parents running around, fucking shit up, no, just the two of them and sometimes a little boy with very familiar eyebrows live here. Ian’s family visits a lot, or they go to the Gallaghers and Mickey’s visits sometimes. Well, Iggy and Mandy come over every once in a while.

 

Their most frequent guest is Svetlana. She often stays for dinner when she brings Yevgeny over or picks him up and her and Mickey manage to yell a little less at each other these days.

But other than that it’s just theirs. Their little bubble. Their home.

 

So it’s only logical to do it here. To ask that very important question here, where Mickey is comfortable and the real Mickey. Not a fidgety, nervous version of him, glancing around because they’re surrounded by people he doesn’t know or just a little too stiff like he is when they’re over at the Gallagher house.

 

Ian takes the last pancake out of the pan and with a lot of pushing and cursing he tugs it under the others so it’s the last one to be eaten. Balancing the mugs in one and the plate with their breakfast in the other hand he makes his way back into the bedroom where Mickey’s waiting for him, totally warm and cozy, the asshole.

He’s not lying down anymore though but sitting up and since they can’t cover themselves completely with the blanket while eating he has thrown on a hoodie.

It’s one of Ian’s so it’s huge on him, sleeves bunched up around his wrists because they’re too long for his arms and Ian is pretty sure if Mickey stood up right now the hem would probably go to the middle of his thighs.

_Holy fucking mother of Jesus Christ, he’s so. fucking. cute._

 

“Took you long enough” Mickey says but there’s no bite in it. There never is , not anymore, unless they have a bad fight.

Ian hands him their breakfast supplies. “What are you doing?” Mickey asks as he turns around and leaves the room. “Getting a tray” Ian calls back as he walks through the shabby hallway with the creaking floor boards that are littered with shoes because Yev is shit at cleaning up after himself.

 

He grabs the old ugly plastic tray with the flowers on it from the kitchen shelf, the one Mickey and Mandy used to roll joints on. His heart is beating like a maniac when he comes back because _fuck_ he’s nervous. He’s thought a lot of what he’s about to do but it wasn’t until this morning that he figured that he will do it _now_.

 

“C’mere.” Mickey pats the mattress, waiting for Ian to join him and Ian does, scrambles into the bed, leans against the headboard and spreads his legs. Mickey shuffles between them, back resting against Ian’s chest and just like that Ian is in his favorite spot again, only without the annoying need to take a leak but with the amazing smell of banana pancakes and coffee instead.

 _So there is no need to freak out._ Only that he totally does.

 

They eat with their fingers because _fuck utensils_ and while they stuff themselves with pancakes and drink their coffee Ian teases Mickey about his hair that is sticking up in all directions and the size of the sweater he is wearing.

 

“Fuck off” Mickey says, his mouth full of his favorite meal for breakfast, which slightly muffles the effect, “Like you look any better in my pants.” That is indeed very true. Whenever Ian throws on a pair of Mickey’s sweats, because sometimes it’s fucking convenient to just grab some off the floor instead of going through the exhausting process of opening the drawer and look for fresh ones, he looks absolutely ridiculous, ends around his calves and dipshit Mickey laughs his ass off every time.

 

They dig through the pancakes while Mickey complains about shit at work and Ian gets more and more worked up. The stack is almost gone by now, only one pancake is left above the one that will cause Mickey to freeze and have a pretty unpredictable reaction to. Ian takes another sip from his coffee, a deep breath and then the last round pancake. Fuck. There’s no going back now.

 

“Like I wanna know what the fuck he’s doing during his fucking skiing vacation in Aspen” Mickey says and Ian doesn’t have to see his face to know that his brows are furrowed in annoyance and confusion because if it were for Mickey small talk wouldn’t even exist.

Ian buries his nose in the back of Mickey’s head. His black hair feels smooth without any product in it and it smells so much like _Mickey_ that Ian would have no problem at all to stay like this for the rest of his life. Who needs banana pancakes if you can have this.

“Well, whatever. At least I don’t gotta listen to him-“ Mickey stops and Ian is low-key freaking out.

 

Mickey’s scent becomes faint as Mickey turns around and faces him.

“Why is there a heart-shaped pancake on the plate?”

He doesn’t look angry or unnerved. Surprised, confused, and maybe a little afraid that it’s fucking Valentine’s Day and Ian has suddenly decided to celebrate that shit.

Ian breathes in, breathes out. Tries to calm himself so he can explain.

“Uhm” he says, “You know that I love you. And you know that I’m a sappy fucker who is all into romance and shit.”

“So you just thought you’d make me a heart pancake.” Mickey’s eyebrow is raised. He sounds amused. But he knows that that’s not it.

“No, asshole. I made you that pancake so I uh, I could uhm… ask you a question.”

 

Jesus, that is so not going the way he has planned. He’s stammering and Mickey’s eyebrow is rising until it nearly disappears into his hairline.

“Then fucking ask.”

He seems to be completely oblivious to what is about to come and Ian isn’t sure whether he should be glad about that or not.

“I uhm, I know for you it’s just a piece of paper, romantic bullshit for people with too much money to throw out the window but I think it’s a statement, not always a necessary one, at least not in our case, but a symbol and a bond and I mean it’s also useful because you get advantages for like taxes and shit and we probably won’t get hit on as much if we wear rings which doesn’t mean we gotta wear rings and-“

 

“Ian!”

 

Ian shuts his mouth. Mickey is staring at him with big blue eyes and Ian’s heart sinks.

This is a stupid idea, a whole fucking stupid idea because Mickey is not ready. Maybe never will be. And who the hell is Ian to bring that shit up, knowing that it’s not Mickey’s thing. Knowing that Mickey has done literally _everything_ for Ian, opened up to him, come out for him, taken care of him, gone to prison for him, come back for Ian when he escaped, regardless of how dangerous it was, and forgiven him for the shit he pulled on that porch, in that visiting booth. At the border.

This is a terrible idea, no matter how much he wants it.

 

“Yeah.”

 

It’s one word. One simple word and Mickey says it so sincere, so _honest_.

 

“Yeah what?”

“Yeah, I will marry you.”

 

And there is no mocking in Mickey’s voice, no sarcasm in his eyes. He’s smiling.

Mickey smiling is the most beautiful thing in the world and Ian can’t believe it. “Really?”

 

“No shit.” Now, Mickey’s got a teasing glint in his gaze, “I mean we’re already ghetto-married, man. Why not get hitched for real.”

And then he can’t say anything else because Ian attacks his mouth and shoves him into the mattress. He knocks over his mug though and spills the remaining coffee everywhere and Mickey calls him a clumsy little wedding bitch before he pulls Ian down and kisses him.

 

 

 

 

 

They do it on a Friday. Two weeks after Ian’s slightly weird proposal.  It’s the middle of January but since they have absolutely no money for a honeymoon or some stupid shit like that it doesn’t really matter when they do it.

They don’t invite their families and friends. Ian knows his siblings and V will kill him but he also knows Mickey better than anyone else so if Mickey gets married there won’t be flowers, fancy suits and a bunch of people. Not that they can afford a big ass wedding anyway.

 

More importantly though, it’s about them. Not about the Gallaghers or the Milkoviches. About them. They don’t need an audience to know that they’re tying the knot. By the time they get to the court house Mickey threatens to not go through with it if Ian finds one more synonym for getting married.

 

It’s about them. And their own little family.

So they do have two guests. Yevgeny and Svetlana.

 

Ian does not think about how these two came into their life.

Ian, Mickey and Svetlana do not talk about it. Although Ian knows eventually they will have to because at some point Yev is going to start asking questions.

 

But regardless of the circumstances they are a family now. Mickey is doing better with Yev everyday, Svetlana and him mostly get along and she has long forgiven Ian for taking her baby to Indiana all those years ago and then pretending to not give a shit about Yev when Mickey was in prison.

 

Ian buys them each a dress shirt, light grey for him and dark blue for Mickey. They throw on their nicest pair of jeans and shoes and Ian almost forgets the rings.

Svetlana found them in a pawnshop. Plain silver.

 

Yevgeny is wearing a smoking with a blue bow tie and Mickey looks at Svetlana like she has gone nuts but she only says “Just because you two have shit taste does not mean he does.” Mickey flips her off and she tugs at his shirt and Ian can see her smiling and knows she doesn’t actually think they look like shit. Lana is wearing a short black dress that doesn’t make her look like the hooker she once was. She ushers them all into her car and they drive to the registry office.

 

They have to wait about ten minutes until it’s their turn. The marriage registrar doesn’t shoot them one weird look at their odd little group and then she marries them. They exchange their rings and speak their vows and Svetlana fumbles with her camera, captures the whole damn thing, while Yev just sits there and smiles at them even though he doesn’t really have a clue what’s going on.

 

“About four years ago you gave me the marriage speech.”

It hurts to say it, it hurts both of them but Ian feels like he needs to say it.

“I was an asshole at that time. ‘Thick and thin, good times bad, sickness, health. All that shit.’” Ian remembers it like it was yesterday.

If the registrar is weirded out by now, she doesn’t show it.

“We’ve made it through all of that. Somehow we made it through, Mick, and I wouldn’t be here without you. I probably would have died in the gutter somewhere.”

Mickey’s eyes are glassy. Looking up at him. And Ian knows he understands.

He gets it.

 

“I’ve done a lot of _shitty_ things. A whole fucking lot of stuff I regret.

 

But going to get that gun back was the best decision of my life.” Mickey huffs out a little laugh at that and Ian’s heart jumps.

 

 

Mickey’s vow is a single sentence and Ian cries when he hears it.

 

“Thank you for setting me free, Ian.”

 

 

Svetlana insists on taking bunch of pictures and then she pushes Yevgeny between them as well. Mickey’s smile is real the whole time.

In the end Mickey snatches the camera from Svetlana and gives it to the registrar who takes a picture of all of them, Mickey holding his son, Svetlana on one side and Ian at his other.

 

After the ceremony they drive to Svetlana’s and she cooks some Russian meal Ian forgets the name of the second Lana tells them but it tastes amazing and they eat and drink and laugh and Mickey is fucking luminous. They walk home, in thick winter coats and beanies and Mickey nearly slips three times because of the ice on the sidewalks and by the time they reach their apartment Ian feels like a snow man because he’s so cold.

 

They crawl into their bed into the warmth of the blankets and each other and Ian thinks of his proposal, about how nervous he was and he presses his face into Mickey’s neck, inhales his scent and _breathes_.

 

They fuck. Gentle and slow. Ian holds Mickey’s hand tightly and feels the ring around his finger.

 

 

 

 

It’s not perfect.

 

Mickey still wakes up in the middle of the night, soaked in sweat and sometimes tears. Ian gives him a new shirt, gets a glass of water. Tells Mickey to breath when he forgets.

Ian still lies in bed for days every once in a while and Mickey calls in sick and stays at home. Makes him food and keeps his distance if Ian wants him to. Scoots closer when Ian asks.

They fight. Over stupid shit and over important stuff. It’s not often. It’s sometimes and it’s never a matter of _if_ but _when_ they make up.

 

Yevgeny stays with them during the weekends and sometimes when Svetlana doesn’t have time and they take him to the zoo and the movies and other stuff kids his age like.

Ian has been to all those things at least once, and if it was by sneaking in behind Monica with all her children trailing behind.

Mickey has never been to the zoo, nor the movies, nor anything else.

Sometimes Ian feels like he’s not watching one, but two excited children with big blue eyes when they go on a trip like that.

 

They fall asleep on the couch while watching movies and wake up with sore necks in the middle of the night. Ian tickles Mickey until he begs for air, steals his food and they have amazing sex in every room except Yevgeny’s.

 

They are exactly the same as they were before their wedding, only that they have to pay less taxes and insurance and Ian doesn’t get hit on as often anymore which Mickey likes while Mickey gets hit on even more which Ian does not like.

And still, it does mean something. It is proof, visible proof of their bond. Their love.

 

Mickey sends a letter to his dad in prison.

A copy of their marriage certificate.

 

Ian falls asleep, wrapped around Mickey. Limbs entangled and fingers intertwined. Scent. Warmth. Home.

 

 

It’s good. Life is good. Every day.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this fic so I would be over the moon to get feedback, anything is welcome!


End file.
